


The Man Who Knew Everything

by interlude



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fury Knew Everything, Gen, No One Dies This Time, Time Travel, Written before Captain Marvel and Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interlude/pseuds/interlude
Summary: A man visits Nick Fury in 1990 and tells him about the future.Written before Captain Marvel and Endgame were released and based on the theory that Fury knew everything that was going to happen throughout the entire MCU through time travel shenanigans.
Relationships: Nick Fury & Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	The Man Who Knew Everything

**1990**

“So you planning to stick around for a bit?” Nick asks, after it’s all over. He’s sitting on the edge of a building, Carol beside him. Heat radiates from her even like this, casual and exhausted and eating a sandwich from the bodega below them. It’s like sitting inches from a roaring fire. Nick has to shrug out of his jacket, feeling sweat beading on his forehead despite the heavy chill in the New York fall air.

He’s also tired and hungry, probably looking just as worse for wear as her, and his mind is still reeling. Aliens. _Shapeshifting_ aliens.

It’s strange to realize that the general public will never know. Their entire existence had been threatened and saved in the span of a week by a handful of individuals who will fade into the shadows of history, nameless and unknown.

He remembers his first day at SHIELD. He’d been young and eager, seated amongst a room of equally green recruits, hanging onto Director Carter’s every word as she’d told them, “If you’re looking for fame or recognition, you will not find yourself satisfied here. What we do is very important; we are the last line of defense between the world and the unusual forces that would threaten it. But it must remain unknown.”

It had been the secrecy that had rankled him. When he’d signed on he’d been prepared to give up his name to history; he just hadn’t realized what else he’d been signing away with it. A life. Friends and family.

When it was just stopping a few lingering HYDRA cells or scientists too smart and dangerous for their own good, that hadn’t felt like a worthy sacrifice to him. For months he’d been nibbling on the idea of turning in his badge and walking back into the world an honest and open man, and the more he’d chewed on it, the sweeter it had tasted.

But then an alien crash landed into his life, and he’d helped saved the world.

The thought of leaving tastes just a little less sweet. He's not sure he'd even be able to sleep at night, knowing what he knows now.

“Hmm?” Carol hums, cheeks bulging with ham and salami and whatever the hell else she had stuffed in her overpacked sandwich. There’s mustard on her cheek. Nick grins at the sight of it. The defender of Earth, everyone.

“You gonna stay?” he repeats. “Get to know your home planet again?”

Carol pauses. She swallows, scrubs her hand over her mouth, managing to completely miss the mustard, then grins back at him. “Nah. It doesn’t even really feel like home anymore. And there’s still so much in space I want to see. I always kind of stuck with the Kree, but there’s a whole galaxy out there.” She looks up into the sky. It’s getting late, and the sun is beginning to sink below the line of skyscrapers, giving way to what would be the nighttime stars if they were anywhere but New York. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, almost reverent. “I want to see all of it.”

The disappointment that settles in Nick’s gut is heavier than he expected it to be. He'll miss her. “Well, if you ever come back to visit, feel free to find me. I’ll take you to the best burger joint in the city.”

Carol smiles at him, less the sharp, reckless grin she usually wears, and instead something softer. Sincere. “You have my number, Mr. Agent Man. Give me a call if you ever need me.”

They finish their sandwiches in silence. Afterwards, Carol takes off into the sky, growing smaller and smaller until she looks like nothing but a far-away shooting star half-hidden by the city lights. Nick watches until she disappears completely. And then he heads home.

* * *

There’s a footprint, faint but definitely new, on the floor of Nick’s apartment. The entry is too clean to be common thief; there's no sign of force, no broken lock. Nothing but the floor looks touched.

Silently, he draws his gun and creeps further into the house. 

“Nick Fury,” a male voice rings out, and he spins, his gun leading the movement towards the corner where the shape of a man sits in the shadows. There’s some kind of light hovering where his chest should be, bathing his face in a dim, blue glow. It’s not much, but with it Nick can make out a goatee and enough of the face to know with certainty he's never before seen this man.

A lamp flicks on. Nick squints into the sudden light. The intruder is older than he is, maybe in his 50s, though it’s hard to say what’s actually age and what’s stress. Cheekbones protrude from a gaunt face drawn with wrinkles and discolored by a Jackson Pollock-like smattering of bruises. The eyes sunken into his tired face are brown and dark and remind Nick of the pictures he's seen of soldiers returning from war, traumatized and broken.

The light in his chest turns out to be just that – something electrical and glowing with no clear purpose, stuck straight in the middle of his sternum. The paranoia that SHIELD helped foster yells weapon, and Nick coils tighter.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands. It’s impossible to determine if the man is Skrull or human without Carol here to tell him, but he knows once he shoots it, the color of the blood will give him his answer.

The man hardly spares the gun a second glance. His sits up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, a barely noticeable line of tension running through his body.

“I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.” The words are heavy as they settle into the air. Nick can feel their importance.

He digests them, waits for them to make some sort of sense. They don’t. “What they hell is that?”

The man’s grave manner shatters. He bursts into laughter, the deep kind that leaves your stomach aching afterwards, but there’s a sharp edge to it that makes Nick weary.

“Look, I’ve had a bit of a trying week, and all I want to do is go to bed. So if you could explain why the _fuck_ you’re in my apartment, I would really appreciate it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the man gasps out, struggling to reign in his laughter. “Inside joke. You’ll get it in about 20 years.”

“You have five seconds to tell me who the hell you are,” Nick barks.

“Alright, alright.” The man raises his hands in surrender, smothering the laughter, though his grin remains. “My name is Tony Stark.”

“Howard’s kid?” Nick clarifies, knowing it’s impossible even as he asks. He knows Tony Stark. It’s hard not to, with the way the kid ends up in the tabloids for something or other every week or so. Even if he didn’t pay attention to the self-destructive scandals of a spoiled rich kid, it was hard to work for SHIELD and not know the name Stark. Howard might have passed most of the day-to-day operations off to Carter a couple years ago, but he’s still a big name at SHIELD, and while Nick guesses his family doesn’t know about his secret side project, SHIELD definitely knows about Howard’s family.

Which means it’s impossible for Nick to not know that Tony Stark is currently twenty years old, baby-faced and still clean shaven and certainly not the man sitting before him – even if they do, he’ll admit, share a striking resemblance.

The man’s mouth quirks, sharp against the earlier amusement like a dissonant cord. “Yeah, Howard’s kid. Give or take thirty years.”

Nick’s fingers twitch on the trigger when the man makes a move for his pocket, and its only years and years of discipline and training that keep him from shooting. There’s a look in the man’s eyes like he knows it; he holds his left hand up and open in surrender while his right pulls something free of his pocket, then opens his hand, palm facing upward, to reveal a small, green stone that glows and hovers, suspended in midair, inches above the skin of his palm.

An overwhelming _want_ fills Nick the minute he sees it – a pull deep in his gut that begs him closer, to reach out and take it, whispering promises of fixing every mistake and regret he’s ever had. _Wouldn’t you like the chance to do things over?_ He feels the offer more than he actually hears the words, tickling along his consciousness and settling into his very being.

“This is called an Infinity Stone.” The man’s voice breaks Nick’s trance. He looks down at the stone in his hand as he talks, his expression curdling like milk in the hot sun, festering with hatred. “There’s six of them, all controlling different things, but all very, _very_ powerful. This bad boy’s called the Time Stone. I think you can probably figure out what I used it to do.”

Even as his mind connects the dots, Nick wants to deny it. One earth-shattering revelation in a week is plenty; he’s not quite prepared to tackle the reality of time travel just yet, even as the Stone itself promises him that what Tony says is true. There’s no way to fake that unnatural knowledge that had filled his thoughts – or that overwhelming desire.

He wants a drink.

The gun seems useless now; it hadn’t worked as a threat and he’s starting to think it probably isn’t one, not to a guy holding something as powerful and reality shattering as that stone. Nick pockets it as he heads towards the kitchen and unearths a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey from one of his cabinets. “You want some?” he asks Tony, gesturing towards him with the bottle.

Tony flinches, though he hides it pretty well. “No thanks,” he says, tone deceptively light. “Had to go cold turkey a couple months ago. Not ready to pick the habit back up.”

Nick takes that as an excuse to forgo a glass. He brings only the bottle back with him as he reenters the living room, sinking into the couch across from Tony and taking a long sip. Tony’s eyes follow the movement like a starving man, before he rubs his free hand roughly over his dirty face and glances away.

“Alright,” Nick says after the whiskey makes its way down. “Explain.”

Tony shakes his head slightly and turns back to face him. For a minute, he doesn’t seem to know where to start, lost for words in a way Nick guesses he rarely is. “The Avengers,” he says finally. “It’s a team you put together – or,” he pauses, eyes widening. His lips twist in a wry grin. “Well, that _I_ put together, I guess. Huh. How about that.”

“Of SHIELD agents?”

“Some. Mostly just really powerful people. I think the new term is metahumans, but I haven’t really been paying attention to the news lately.”

“Like Carol?”

“No, I guess she was in space the first time around. We probably could have used her, though.” Tony moves the Stone back into his pocket; as it disappears, so does the alien throb of desire, and Nick feels his body automatically relax, tension he didn’t realize was even there fading away.

Tony pulls something new from his pocket and tosses it across the room, where Nick catches it easily and turns it in his hands. It’s not much larger than the stone, slim and rectangular and silver. “What’s this?”

“Files. Everything you need to know about all of us – and what’s coming.”

“No, I mean, what the hell is this?” He holds it up for emphasis as he asks.

Tony’s face falls; then he rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and expels a deep, resigned sigh. “Oh fuck, it’s 1990. I forgot. What, you guys still using floppy disks?” He doesn’t give Nick a chance to answer before he’s waving his hand dismissively and saying, “It’s something you plug into a computer and store information on. Hold onto it until the technology catches up. I guess I’ll just give you the run-down.”

And he does. While Nick slowly works his way through the bottle, Tony tells him about two agents he hasn’t heard of but surely will soon enough, of a graduate student who isn’t currently of concern but will be, and of another alien powerhouse like Carol who Nick won’t need to seek out, but will show up just when he’s needed.

“And Captain America,” Tony adds at last, something ugly twisting in his face even as he tries to keep up a calm façade.

“They give the name to someone else?” Nick asks. That shouldn’t be the most shocking thing he’s heard tonight, but somehow it’s the piece he has the hardest time accepting. From what he’s gathered, the Captain was something like a sweetheart for Carter back in the day, and he can’t imagine her letting anyone else run around in the uniform. Maybe that means Carter’s dead by then.

“No. The original model.”

Nick stares at him. “You go back in time and pick him up, too?”

Tony snorts. “No, this one wasn’t magic. Just good old-fashioned science. Well, weird super soldier science, but still science. Which reminds me.” He grabs a discarded phone bill sitting on the coffee table and a pen and jots down a series of numbers before sliding it over towards Nick. They look like coordinates.

“You’re going to want SHIELD to start digging there. Straight down until you find him.”

Nick lets the complete ridiculousness of that go for a minute to focus on something else. “I don’t have that kind of authority.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? Not top dog yet?”

“I was planning to quit, actually.”

Tony scoffs. “Well, new plan then. Get to a position where you do have that authority and then get SHIELD to dig up a sleeping super soldier. Much as I hate to say it, we’re gonna need him.”

“Last week I was thinking my work at SHIELD was pointless. Then an alien invasion happened and changed my mind. Now I got a guy from the future telling me to become director. Kind of feels like the universe is telling me something.”

“Yeah, it’s saying don’t quit,” Tony snarks. Then he tilts his head. “Wait, you dealt with an alien invasion before New York, and I’m just finding out about it now? I know you’re the king of secrets, but that seems important to know.”

“How? What is all this for? What are the Avengers for?”

“For when humanity needed them most to fight the battles that they never could,” Tony quips, the words dull as if he’s repeating something. He’s rolling his eyes even as he says it, and Nick thinks it kind of odd he seems so dismissive of the Avengers team even as he’s going to such great lengths to ensure its creation. “But mostly – there’s something big coming. I don’t know how big this last alien invasion was, but this is bigger. Universe-ending kind of big. The first wave comes in 2012, and we manage to push it back, miraculously. Sort of a dues ex machina situation. I fly a nuke into a wormhole.” And then he shrugs, casually, like that isn’t a big deal, even as his knuckles turn white where they’re gripping the arms of his seat. “Which reminds me – when you hear about the nuke, tell me first.”

“Sure,” Nick agrees, like that means anything to him. “The second wave?” he prompts.

“2018. We – “ Tony’s voice falters. He coughs to clear it. A hand has moved up to the device on his chest, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the casing absentmindedly. He glances away from Nick, into the empty air, where those haunted eyes catch on something miles away. “We don’t manage to push it back.”

“So you’re here to stop it. To change things.”

“Not quite,” Tony admits. “I have it on good authority we only get one shot at this, and something he said makes me think it had to happen this way first. And besides, it’s kind of in the name, isn’t it? We don’t stop things.” His mouth quirks in a humorless grin. “We avenge them.”

“So what’s that mean?” Nick asks, feeling frustration burn in his throat harder than the whiskey. He doesn’t want to be a part of helping the apocalypse happen if there’s a chance to stop it. Was that not what that Stone had promised Tony to bring him here? “You’re playing damage control?”

“It means we need the right players in position to go through the worst possible ending to get to the best,” Tony says, like that makes any more sense of it. “I don’t think we’re supposed to stop Thanos the first time. Hell, I don’t even think we can, even if we start trying to track him down now. We need to get him after he thinks he’s won – when he thinks he’s in the clear. And to do that, we need the Avengers. We need them assembled.” He pauses. His mouth twitches in an almost-grin. “ _Together_.”

The word hangs heavy. There’s a power to it that Nick isn’t privy to – something that hasn’t happened yet.

And then Tony blinks out of his reverie and looks up at him. “And that’s up to you. You’re the one bringing all the pieces together so that years later, we can fix this mess.”

Nick doesn’t believe in fate. He doesn’t believe in omnipotent beings pulling the strings, directing humanity where to go. And yet, here he is, being singled out by fate with the task of carrying out events that need to happen so that one day humanity will be safe. The whiskey churns uneasy in his stomach.

It’s too much. How does he shoulder the responsibility of ensuring the future? What kind of man is the Nick Fury that Tony knows?

“What about you?” he asks, as it dawns on him the other man never said. “How are you involved in all this?”

Tony snorts a sort of bitter laugh. He resumes his tapping on the machinery in his chest. “I’m too involved. I think I probably helped it along in a few ways. Which is why I’m helping put it right again.” He seems to realize that isn’t an answer when he sees Nick’s face and hurries to add, “I’m one of the team. The first one outside of SHIELD that you came to about all this.”

“When?”

“Definitely not now. I don’t even remember what I was doing in 1990, but I know it involved a lot of booze and a lot of coke, and if you came to me talking about superheroes and aliens, I’d probably just think someone laced my shit with acid. No, in a little over a decade I’m going to go to Afghanistan,” he falters on the word, before pushing forward, “and I’m going to go missing for a while. When I get back – that’s when you come to me. Got it?”

Nick wants to argue. Against all of this – fate and time travel and promises that seem unfounded. Wants to call Tony a madman and force him from his apartment and pretend none of this ever happened. Kind of still wants to shoot him just to make sure he doesn’t bleed green. But he knows he’ll listen. He’s always been an over-prepared paranoid bastard. Somehow, knowing what’s coming, even if it sounds awful, is almost a relief. He can feel the thing Tony gave him burning a hole in his pocket and wonders how many years it will be until he can open it and get the full story.

“Sure, Stark,” he says, saluting him with the whiskey bottle.

Tony grins. A little bit of the haunted look has gone, as if with Nick to help shoulder the knowledge of what’s coming, it’s grown a little lighter for him. “Well, guess that’s goodbye for now. See you in the future, Nick.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

* * *

**2008**

Nick does keep his promise.

All of them. He climbs the ranks at SHILED until he’s director and starts a dig in the Antarctic for a dead man. When the technology catches up, he pulls out the USB drive and devours the information inside of it, reading the profiles of the scientist who has only just recently popped up on SHIELD’s radar, the god that hasn’t seen Earth in hundreds of years, and the two agents he’s been keeping an eye on.

And when Tony Stark comes home from a three-month stint in Afghanistan, he sends one of his most trusted agents to check the situation out. Coulson comes back with a detailed report of a mechanized, flying armor suit, one he’d already known the name of long before the general public settled on Iron Man and Tony himself paraded it on live television, and Nick knows it’s time to pay the man a visit himself.

He feels almost giddy as he breaks into Stark’s place, taking a seat in the dark house after dismantling JARVIS and settling in to wait.

He can’t deny that he’s excited to see Tony face to face again, because despite all the work he’s been doing the past 18 years, meeting Tony for the first time – or second, he supposes, depending on who you ask – feels like the first real step in all of this, this great, grand plan of Cosmic design he’s somehow become a key player in. This is where everything starts.

Tony won’t know him, of course, but seeing Tony and that light in his chest will make all of this truly real in a way it hasn’t been before.

And if Nick’s being truly honest with himself, he’s excited to be the one in on the joke this time.

In fact, he already knows what he's going to say.

* * *

**2010**

Tony could have warned him that his past self would have absolutely zero interest in helping Nick form the Avengers. Somehow he thinks not warning him, and forcing him to keep chasing Tony like an unwanted telemarketer, might have been intentional. Maybe Tony was trying to get him back for hounding him in the first place. Or for sending in Natasha to write a report on him that Nick knows he’ll just ignore anyways. Or even just to mess with him for the hell of it, because that seems like his style.

Whatever the reason, Nick dutifully plays his role, following Tony to the donut shop and trying not to get a kick out of how adamant the man is that he’ll never join Nick’s team. This younger Tony – like the one he met in 2008 right after the Iron Monger mess – is different than the one he met in the past. It’s not just that he’s younger, but even with the fresh trauma of Afghanistan or the pain of literally dying, he seems less burdened than the battle-worn, haunted man that sat across from him and told him about the end of the world.

It’s sickening to know that the man across from him hasn’t even begun to face all the horrors he will in his lifetime, even though he thinks he has. It’s a difficult secret to swallow down, even if he knows he must.

He can’t tell Tony the future. There’s no way that Tony would let things play out the way they do if he knew, and the Tony that had met him in the past had been certain they must. But what he can do is make sure the man stays alive – and not just out of a sense of obligation for the fate of the world. Damn the man, but his terrible sense of humor is growing on him.

It isn’t hard to find Howard’s old research or the boxes he left for Tony to inherit one day. SHIELD never threw them away after his death, and Nick’s been keeping a close eye on them since he became director. So he hands them over to their rightful owner and lets Tony do the rest, just as he knows he will.

Tony never thanks him for the help. Not in words, at least. But a few weeks after the Vanko incident gets cleaned up, Nick finds a box of donuts on his desk.

* * *

**2012**

It’s reassuring to know from the start that the Avengers Initiative does work – eventually. Nick holds onto that reminder as he watches them spend their first few hours together bickering like children, alternating between yelling at each other and yelling at him. And if it takes a bit of manipulation and a pack of bloody cards to help them along, then so be it. He’s never claimed to be above manipulation if it works. And it does work.

He might not be an honest man, but he keeps his promises. When the WSC launches a missile at New York City, Nick tells Stark first.

And even as he knows the man will live, he hangs his head in defeat. Meeting Stark was the beginning. But this moment – as Stark flies a missile straight into Thanos’s neighborhood – this is the beginning of the end.

* * *

**2019**

The Avengers compound feels like a tomb. It has for the past two years, actually, ever since one document drew up sides and shattered the team from within – but the lingering ghosts of the dead feel stronger now, coating everything. The air inside feels thick and full of dust; Tony feels it in his throat when he breathes, though he’s checked the air filtration systems five times already and knows it’s only in his head.

The remaining Avengers – the original six, actually, which feels like a bad joke – keep mostly to themselves in far corners of the place, old wounds still raw and unbearable even in the face of such tragedy. After finding a welcoming team on the lawn when he came back to Earth, Tony has done his best to avoid them, hiding himself mostly in a random room that hadn’t yet been transformed into anything, wasting his days away repeating the battle in his head and trying not to think of Peter.

He can’t stomach his lab, because the pieces of Iron Man littering the place only serve as a reminder that for all the worrying and panicking he’s done for six years, he still didn’t do enough.

But the empty room is a neutral space. There are no items left from missing teammates. No reminders of the way they first broke apart over two years ago. No sign of the symbol that had once meant his redemption and now only means his failure. Just a blank slate, perfect for wasting away in.

He’s in the unused room when he gets a knock on the door, and he’s so surprised that someone is actually seeking him out that he calls for them to enter before he has time to regret it. He’s expecting Rhodey or Bruce.

He isn’t expecting a ghost.

“Long time no see,” Coulson says easily, in that calm manner he’d always had, while Tony tries to process how a man who’s been dead for five years manages to still look so unruffled. 

He’s too tired to even register the betrayal. It slides right off of him, as if he’s built up an immunity with enough exposure. “You’re looking good for a dead man,” he says finally.

“I’m sorry,” Coulson says as he walks closer. And damn it all, he actually looks like he means it. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“What have you been doing since you’ve died, then? Kicking it on a beach somewhere? Taking up yoga? That suit sure doesn’t scream retirement.”

Coulson smiles. Tony’s surprised to realize just how much he’s missed him. Life has taken so much away; it’s a pleasant change for it to give him something back. “Not quite. I’ve been forming my own team. Well, I had been before Thanos.”

The implication is clear.

“Did they –?” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. As if he could just pretend it hadn’t happened if he doesn’t say it. It’s an uncharacteristic form of willing naivety, but one he’s been clinging to lately.

Coulson’s smile doesn’t move, but it doesn’t hide the pain in his eyes. “All but two of us. I’m hoping we can get them back.”

Tony scoffs. When he laughs, it tears at his throat. Y _ou had too much faith in us_ , he wants to say. The Avengers was always a tragedy in the making.

Coulson pulls a letter from his jacket pocket. Tony sees his name written on it, and while the handwriting looks familiar, he can’t quite place it. “It’s a bit funny,” Coulson says, looking down at the letter. “After SHIELD was dismantled and Fury stepped down, he gave me this. Told me to hold onto it and give it to you after the end of the world happened. It’s almost like he knew what would happen.”

Tony scoffs. “Well, he always acted like he was one step ahead of everyone.”

“Maybe he was,” Coulson says. And he holds the letter out for him to take.

Tony doesn’t want to admit that he’s afraid to. What parting words could Nick Fury have for him? Perhaps it’s the same words Tony hears every night in his dreams: _why didn't you do more?_

He takes the letter. When he opens it, a stone he never thought he’d see again rolls into his lap, and Fury’s words stare back at him.

_Tony,_

_Things had to happen this way._

_When the time comes, use it. 1990. Bring this._

* * *

**After the end of the End of the World**

In the aftermath, a worn and weary soldier in a battered suit of armor sits beside a tired, old man. For a moment, they're both content to sit in silence, watching a hundred tearful reunions play out in front of them.

Finally, the tired, old man speaks. “I ever tell you about the time I helped fight off an alien invasion in 1990?”

The solider laughs. His eyes shine with tears. “No,” he says, shaking his head, eyes locked on the shape of teenage boy in the distance gesturing excitedly to the woman beside him. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tony: I can’t believe you said I wasn’t recommended for the team I put together.  
> Fury: You put together? Your adventures in time make your ego bigger, Stark? Just because you told me about it doesn’t mean you put the team together.  
> Tony: Actually, considering I gave you the idea to even form the team in the first place, I’m pretty sure that means that I created the Avengers. And you made me a consultant. Unbelievable.
> 
> \--
> 
> Like I said, written before CM and Endgame and then thoroughly jossed. I lost a bit of steam while writing this after Captain Marvel came out and so the ending is a bit rushed. Honestly don't have an explanation for how Fury had the stone at the end to give to Tony. Just roll with it.


End file.
